


A good night’s sleep

by superwholocked_wizard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Drarry, Fluff, Homesickness, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pining, Small fic, cute fic, draco misses home, draco x harry - Freeform, fluff one shot, harry comforts him, its gay, room of requirement is awesome, sfw, sfw drarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:53:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superwholocked_wizard/pseuds/superwholocked_wizard
Summary: Draco has a hard time sleeping most nights, sometimes because of jumbled thoughts and other times he doesn’t even know why, but tonight he can feel it deeply, a homesickness like no other, so instead of laying in bed and waiting for the horrible feeling to go away, instead he goes to the seventh floor, to find what he truly wants.





	A good night’s sleep

**Author's Note:**

> ok so hi how’s life?
> 
> Here’s a Drarry fic which was requested on tumblr
> 
> i did originally post this on my tumblr so please don’t think i am stealing this
> 
> my tumblr is: ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash.tumblr.com
> 
> have fun reading!

Blaize was snoring.

He did this every night, sounds like thunder coming from someone who, overall, seemed to have a similar temper to it. So when Draco became his roommate, he generally wasn’t surprised that he could wake up the entire room with just one breath.

This didn’t bother Draco, he could sleep through anything, through a storm, through a fight, probably even through a fire (and whilst he was proud of that, it didn’t make it any less dangerous).

And despite the fact that he usually could sleep, tonight he didn’t want to, not here at least.

He missed home.

He missed his room, which smelt usually like musty books and hot tea, and occasionally candle wax.

He missed his bed, with soft wool sheets which kept him completely warm day in and day out. He missed his mother.

He missed how, if he ever had a nightmare, she would know, as if she were directly linked to him, and would be in his room in 5 minutes at most, comforting him and bringing him to the kitchen, making him a hot chocolate to calm him down, and eventually taking him back up and tucking him in. He didn’t care that he was 16, it was comforting, something he dearly needed at the moment.

He even missed his father funnily enough.

Whilst he appeared cold and secluded to all others, he was actually quite warm when he wanted to be.

He missed walking into a room to see his mother and father dancing to a cauldron full of hot strong love, and seeing his father lean in and whisper something in his mother's ear, only to have her giggle and lean into his chest.

These moments were rare, but they were the ones he missed, and loved, the most out of all of them.

Pulling him out of his thoughts, he hears a clock chime 11 in the common room, with small bells ringing melodiously and softly, reminding him hour after hour that he was still not home.

He pulled the blanket off him.

Swinging his legs around, they hung off the bed, socks barely too big for his feet, just gently sliding a little, almost as if urging him to move.

His feet gently touched the cold stone beneath them, letting the cold filter into his entire body, making him shiver.

He padded towards the common room door, pushing it open slightly, looking around the corridor, and then slipping through silently, and slinking from wall to wall, eyes searching for any sign of mrs norris, or worse, Filtch.

He swore he heard someone behind him, but every time he turned, no one was there, only the feeling of being watched, and the imaginary sound of someone’s breath being suppressed.

When he finally made it to the seventh floor, he felt a sense of relief as the carved door came into view, slowly forming to his will and welcoming him as an old friend would.

As the door creaked open, Draco felt himself relax, and ducked through the door, letting it close behind him with a final thud.

Walking into the room, Draco smiled.

The walls were covered, corner to corner, in books.

There were different texts from Merlin’s theorems, to Dumbledore's 12 cures of dragon pox. It had fiction and fact, muggle and magic, and family books which had been passed down from generations, and yet the room had it.

A bed lay in the corner of the room, with familiar knitted sheets of green, and red, ushering someone to them, making the bed look even more inviting than usual.

The desk in the centre of the room lay tidy, with all of the writing utensils perfectly organised, should they need to be used.

The skylight (which Draco was surprised the room could replicate due to them not being on the castle's top floor, but hey, it was magic) had a beautiful pattern moulded into it, with the family name; Malfoy, at the centre of the piece.

Gold leaves circled and enhances small figures who danced, rose and fell on the glass portrait, and a warm glow encased the room and bathed Draco’s face in a peaceful light, making his entire body relax at the feeling of home.

The gentle gliding of the dust onto the floor made the entire environment seem more, slow, and serene, compared to the extreme buzz of everyday life at hogwarts, the filled corridors and the continuous stream of words from excited 1st years to bored 7th years.

Draco took in a long, deep breath, before letting go, and allowing his entire body relax.

Not only did the room look like it, but it felt like home, through and through.

A gasp came from the door of the room.

Draco turned quickly to see a mirage, a ripple in the air, the a pair of feet appearing, legs, a body, and a head with a lightning scar and pair of circular wire spectacles.

“Potter.”

It wasn’t harsh, like Harry had expected, but soft, and rather vulnerable if he was completely honest. His eyes were calmer than usual, not sharp and accusing, but almost like a puppy, completely innocent and gentle.

“Draco, I’m really sorry, I was up and I saw you and I wanted to make sure you were ok so-”

“Its alright,” Draco didn’t seem to be angry, he didn’t even seem to be bothered, he seemed more relaxed than ever and completely at ease.

Harry let out a breath, and rubbed his hands on his pajama bottoms, wiping off the cold sweat that had formed in his palms, and on the tips of his fingers, making his hands clammy.

Now that he was standing in full view of Draco, he had become hyper aware of the lack of a shirt. Not Draco’s lack of shirt, but Harry’s. In his will to get out of the hot dorm, he had thrown on his invisibility cloak but neglected a shirt, why should he need one, he was invisible.

A blush was making its way up Draco’s neck, in stark contrast to the pale peach of his skin, noticing this fact too, and tried to look away from his chest, into his green eyes.

“Erm, Potter?” Harry looked up, “You’re not wearing a shirt.”

Harry shuffled awkwardly on the balls of his feet.

Trying to avoid the subject at hand he looked around the room, seeing the several Slytherin posters and scarves, as well as a stuffed toy which seemed to be in the shape of a dragon, resting on the pillow at the end of the bed.

“What is this place?”

Draco sighed.

“My room,” a complete silence followed.

“So I’m-”

“Yup,” Draco cut him off, gliding towards the bed and sitting at the foot of it, patting the space next to him.

Harry gave a little giggle before a snort made its way through his lips. Draco tilted his head confused.

“You’re inviting me to bed with you?”

Draco’s blush went a darker shade of pink, now almost glowing in the soft light of the room.

“If my parents found out about this they’d go ballistic,” he replied, shaking his head slightly, “Sure Potter, whatever floats your boat.”

Harry gave one more giggle before walking towards the bed and sitting next to Draco.

“So,” He paused, looking up at Draco, “Why did the room show you your bedroom?”

Draco looked at Harry, seeing nothing but genuine interest in his eyes.

“Do you ever get homesick here, miss your family or your room?” Harry shook his head, the only time that he ever got sick was when he was surrounded by his blood relatives, people that he could never consider family, now or in a milion years.

“Well, I do. At home I don’t have to act a certain way and I can just relax, without having to worry about being hated. I don’t sleep here, I just miss my room.” His head was hung in, shame? Harry hadn’t ever seen Draco so emotional and willing to talk to him, it was surprising to say the least.

They sat in silence, staring at one of the bookcases, each of them thinking of different things, but appreciating the mutual presence of the other, Harry finally having relaxed in the unfamiliar, but oddly comforting room which surrounded him.

He heard Draco’s breathing begin to slow, before feeling a small weight on his shoulder. Harry tensed at the random touch, but eventually relaxed, and let his own head fall onto Draco’s white hair, and let himself sleep peacefully.

Of course, when they both woke up, they denied it, but that had been the best nights sleep either of them had ever had. And though they tried to deny it to themselves, they knew that they were good for each other.

They met up again, and again and again in the room of requirement, sometimes talking about themselves, or sometimes talking about their friends, but it would always end in the same way, a good night's sleep.


End file.
